


A Different Conversation

by AudreyV



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Angst, Captain’s Logs, F/F, Heavy Angst, Mutual Pining, Personal Logs, Pining, Post Season 2, Pre-Relationship, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-23 20:02:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20345899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AudreyV/pseuds/AudreyV
Summary: Michael listens to Philippa’s logs.





	A Different Conversation

**Author's Note:**

> Major spoilers for seasons 1 & 2, including the season 2 finale.

“Did you look up your parents yet? Or Spock?” Tilly asked. Michael looked up from her PADD.

“No. And I don't intend to.”

“Why not?”

“They've been dead for hundreds of years. I don't need to know how or when exactly. They're gone.”

“Well that’s morbid. But true, I guess.” Tilly shifted on her bed. “My mom had a statue of me commissioned.”

“No— she did?” Michael asked with a smile. “Is there an image?”

Tilly tapped at the PADD, then turned it to Michael. The image showed the statue glowing in the morning light. A tall, thin, straight-haired Tilly in granite stood, one hand on her hip, the other shading her eyes as she gazed into the distance.

“Isn't it ridiculous?” Tilly asked with a giggle. “She thought I died saving the universe and THAT is how she chose to remember me. A statue that looks nothing like me, tucked away in a Starfleet academy garden I couldn't even walk through without sneezing!” Tilly relaxed back against her pillow. “Man. That's so classically my mom, you know? And even though part of me is desperately annoyed by that statue, another part of me loves that she memorialized me in her own way.”

“That is pretty beautiful. Even if this statue couldn't hold a candle to the real you.”

“Aww, you're sweet.” Tilly paused, scrunching up her nose in thought. “You think it's still there? The statue.”

“I hope so. When we finally get back to Earth, I'd like to see it.”

“Me too. As long as all the flowers are dead.” Tilly grinned. “Anyway. I'm greatly enjoying my deep dive into the ancient history that is the future for the people we left behind. I highly recommend it.”

“I don't even know if the databases we’ve recovered would include relevant information.”

“Well that's an easy question to answer. Computer, locate any references to Michael Burnham in the data we've recovered since we arrived in the 33rd century.”

“Commander Michael Burnham,” the computer responded promptly. “Starfleet officer. Born 2226 to Gabrielle and Michael Burnham. Died 2257 aboard the USS Discovery—”

“Uh, nope, sorry,” Tilly said quickly. “Computer, exclude official history. Scan personal logs.”

“Three hundred twenty three references to ‘Michael Burnham’ found.”

“Play one for us,” Tilly instructed before Michael could stop her.

“Personal Log, Captain Philippa Georgiou, stardate 1440.2. Sarek’s ward Michael seems to be settling in well. She's obviously quite intelligent, but emotionally locked up tight. I worry I won't be able to pull her out of her shell as he hopes. If I can't, she’ll still be a fine officer. But I see so much potential in her to be a great leader and a truly remarkable human— if she can reconnect to what that means.” There was a pause and Michael wondered if the log had cut off, but then her captain’s voice filled the room again. “I shouldn't worry so much. It's only been eight weeks. We have time. End personal log.”

Michael looked over at Tilly, who seemed stunned.

“Uh… that wasn't what I was expecting. Like, I thought we'd get someone talking about how much they missed you, not a recording of Captain Georgiou that… this is weird.” Tilly sighed. “It was weird to begin with and I really shouldn't have pushed. I'm so sorry.”

“It's okay, Tilly,” Michael said. “It was good to hear her voice.”

“Uh, we hear her voice all the time.” Tilly rolled her eyes. “Just yesterday I heard her voice describing a visit to an Orion sex dungeon in great detail.”

“You know what I mean.” Michael sighed. “This Georgiou… she's saved my life more than once.”

“And she's a hell of a good time when she's got a few drinks in her,” Tilly added.

“That she is. But she's not my captain. She's someone different.”

“That makes sense.”

“Detmer to Tilly,” the comm system relayed.

“Tilly here.”

“We’re starting a Ka Dis Cot tournament in ten minutes in the rec room, if you're available. Michael's invited too if she wants.”

“Be right down! Tilly out.” Tilly looked over at Michael. “You coming?”

“No, I have some reading to do,” Michael said, gesturing to her PADD.

As soon as Tilly bounced out the door, Michael settled in to read. The book was a mystery novel about a Bolian detective with a knack for finding missing people. She'd been looking forward to it all week, but her mind kept wandering.

“Computer… how many of Captain Philippa Georgiou’s personal logs reference Michael Burnham.”

“One hundred twenty three.”

Michael’s stomach clenched at the number. It seemed huge. Surely her captain had better things to record in her personal logs. Although it was logical that Michael was a frequent player in Georgiou’s stories, as her captain's time was mainly taken up by work and they did work together.

“Computer… is there a log from stardate 1601.5?”

“Affirmative.”

“Play it,” Michael said and Philippa Georgiou’s voice once again filled the room.

“The surprise went off marvelously,” Georgiou said. Michael could almost see the twinkle in her captain’s eye. “Somehow the ship’s gossip network kept the secret. Michael looked positively shocked when she walked into the mess hall and saw all of us gathered around the cake. She pointed out that the number of candles was incorrect and I explained the concept of “one to grow on.” It amazes me to think this is the fifth birthday she's celebrated aboard the Shenzhou. I really should have thought of a cake sooner. She pretended to be unaffected but I could tell from her expression she was touched.”

Michael smiled. She had been, so much. Amanda always made her birthday special but as Michael got older she preferred a more Vulcan type of celebration— quiet contemplation really. But seeing her friends and her captain gathered around that cake with its twenty-nine candles made her heart feel so full it might burst.

“Michael looked so beautiful in the candlelight. Part of me wished…” the recording trailed off and Michael held her breath as she waited, needing to know what came next. “I know she loved the party and having everyone there to celebrate, but part of me yearned to be alone with her. More and more I hate to share her… as if she were mine in the first place. Of course it would be a grievous abuse of my authority if I ever indulged these impulses, but I often find myself thinking of her before I go to sleep. She blows out the candles and I take her face in my hands and kiss her mouth. Luckily for all involved she's given no indication she's aware of how fond of her I am. Even if she were open to romance with a woman, I can't imagine she'd pick the old, stubborn captain of an out of date ship.”

Michael realized she was clenching her hands around her PADD. She set it down on the bed and tried to breath normally.

She knew she'd worshipped Philippa Georgiou throughout her time on the Shenzhou, but Michael hadn't realized what she felt was love until long after. She knew it when she fell in love with Ash and it felt the same, heavy in her stomach and light and fluttery in her chest at the same time. In hindsight, she wished she'd known sooner, although she had no idea what she would have done if she had.

“Someday soon, Michael will be ready for her own command. Perhaps by then my feelings for her will have settled into something gentler and more professional.And if not… we’ll be of the same rank and above reproach. Only time will tell. End personal log.”

Michael sat, stunned as she processed what she'd just heard. She swallowed hard.

“Computer, what's the date of Captain Georgiou’s last personal log.”

“Stardate 1761.1, the day before her death on board the USS Discovery.”

“No the real— what's the last personal log on or before stardate 1207.3?”

“There is a log for that date.”

“Play it,” Michael said, bracing herself.

“Michael is gone,” Philippa said. Her voice was low and rough, and weary beyond measure. “The brig was lost in the hull breach. The list of casualties is as long as my arm but there's only one name on it that makes me question my own fitness as a captain. How could I have been so wrong about her? When the chips were down she reacted with xenophobia and swift, decisive violence. My head is still throbbing from the nerve pinch. I know she said she did it to save me, but that's no excuse or consolation. I had to send her to the brig. Her pain made her dangerous. I thought… I was a fool to think there would be time for us to make amends. The same way I thought there would be time for me to tell her I loved her once she had a ship of her own. I followed all the regulations so diligently, but Starfleet’s rules have left me with a crippled ship full of casualties and a first officer who tried to warn me and died for her trouble. I have so many regrets. If I live long enough, I’ll write a book of them. For now, I’m going to do all I can to find a way to strike back at the Klingons. My pain makes me dangerous too. End log.”

Michael wiped tears from her face. Listening to her captain's voice from that terrible day took her back there. Hours after Philippa recorded that log, she died on the Klingon ship of the dead and Michael became something worse than a mutineer.

“Computer… cross-reference “Michael Burnham” and “Philippa Georgiou.”

“Michael Burnham and Philippa Georgiou were killed in the destruction of the USS Discovery during a battle with an unknown entity on stardate 1762.8. Sister ships the USS Burnham and the USS Georgiou were christened together in 2267. Additional recording found- Tyler, Ash.”

“Play it.”

“Philippa Georgiou and Michael Burnham served together for eight years. Seven of those years were full of peace and exploration. One was in the course of and aftermath of a war. They were friends as well as colleagues and I know they cared deeply for each other, so it's fitting we are honoring them both today. Michael once told me they had a bond that was strong enough to cross universes. It was true. Had a few things gone differently, history would remember them as a mutineer and the captain she betrayed. Luckily we know the truth— both Burnham and Georgiou evolved beyond that one moment and went on to die protecting each other and all of us. Science dictates no particular afterlife and I'm not a religious man, but I hope whenever— wherever they are now, they're happy.”

The log ended with a soft chirp. Michael felt hot tears running down her face but did nothing to stop them.

Ash’s voice. Philippa’s. Twin ships bearing their names. Being remembered as a hero rather than a traitor and a failure. It was overwhelming, like a hot piece metal to her gut.

“Computer, play the last log of Philippa Georgiou,” Michael said impulsively.

“Michael’s going to save the universe or die trying,” came the familiar, sour, rougher version of her beloved Philippa’s voice. “Any shrewd gambler would place their latinum on ‘die trying.’ I don't know what it is with that girl and her annoying martyr complex. Why can't she let the universe look after itself? Even if she manages to pull this off, the universe doesn't know how to be grateful. But I know her, and I know there's no talking her out of it. I considered abandoning the mission, taking a shuttlecraft and going to live out the remainder of my life— however long it may be— on some gorgeous moon somewhere. But I can't. So tomorrow, we make our stand, together. I’ll see to it that she saves this pathetic universe or I’ll die trying. Perhaps we are foolish in the same ways. Gabrielle said I sacrificed myself for Michael in one of the other timelines. I have a hard time believing that. It's not very Terran. But then I look at the situation we’re in… There's nothing I wouldn't do for her. It's an odd sensation. I loved my Michael, of course, but I also knew both our limits. This Michael… I love her. Every version of me has loved her.And none of us will ever say a word before it's too late. It's tragic, I suppose. But better, if we’re to die tomorrow, that we keep things simple. Perhaps if we both survive, we can have a different conversation. And if not, perhaps someday some lowly archivist tasked with the chore of transcribing the logs of a woman long dead will enjoy the story of two star-crossed idiots who saved the universe and died in the process, which honestly seems like the most likely outcome.”

Michael sat quietly after the log finished. She knew she shouldn't have intruded. Listening to her Philippa’s log was historical curiosity. This Philippa still lived, three decks up, and would have been angry to know her privacy had been invaded.

But that paled in the light of what Michael had learned. She gathered her strength and then rushed to leave her quarters, colliding with Tilly in the doorway.

“Whoa, where are you headed?” Tilly asked.

“I’m about to do something reckless and emotional.”

“Yes! I am so proud of you!” Tilly exclaimed. “Get to it, you hot head.”

Michael felt considerably less confident when she stood in front of Georgiou's door. She took a deep breath and pressed the chime.

“Michael,” Georgiou said when the doors whooshed open. “What's wrong? You look awful.”

“You haven't recorded a log, official or personal, since we jumped to the future.” Michael pushed past Georgiou. “Why?”

“Pfft. It's boring, blathering on about my day.” Georgiou settled into a chair, her legs thrown over the side of it as she sipped a viscous dark green drink. “Why do you care?”

“You're supposed to keep a log.”

“We’re hundreds of years and a quadrant away from the chain of command, and I assure you Captain Saru has no want or need of my personal record keeping. He's just happy I've chosen to behave myself.” Georgiou took a bottle from the small table and filled a second nearby glass. She handed it to Michael and then vaguely gestured for Michael to sit.

Michael sipped the drink. It was sweet, with a sharp kick at the end.

“We are far from the chain of command,” Michael said. “But technically you do outrank me.”

“Technically I've served the Federation for about a year and a half,” Georgiou mused. “Why?”

“You once told me there are no second chances,” Michael said, shifting in her seat, finally leaning forward and looking Georgiou in the eye.

“There aren't,” Georgiou responded evenly. “I'm not her, Michael. I never was, and I never will be.”

“That's not what I mean,” Michael said.

“Then say what you DO mean or leave me alone.”

“‘Perhaps if we both survive, we can have a different conversation.’” Michael said quietly, watching as Georgiou’s posture shifted slightly, growing stiff and tense just under the pretext of her casual, cat-like sprawl.

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

“Perhaps, if we both survive, we can have a different conversation,” Michael repeated. “We didn't have that conversation before. We both survived. That feels like a second chance to me, Philippa.”

Michael stared Georgiou down, barely breathing until the other woman threw up her hands and sighed dramatically.

“Then let’s have it.”


End file.
